Twisted Wings
by Kry Mitsukai
Summary: Three years after the liberation of Zaibach, a new threat haunts Hitomi's dreams. Van fights for the safety of his country, hardening to everyone around him. The ultimate sacrifice must be taken for the sake of Fanelia. (My first fanfic, my baby. Be const
1. Innocence Lost

"My name? My name .."  
  
The inky blackness was a cold place, a place she had experienced before. And yet that memory failed her for some reason, leaving only a slight tinge of familiarity. It seemed that everything was beyond her at the moment, even her own name. The words she spoke were fumbled over, as if they simply didn't sound right.  
  
"My name is .."  
  
She held her pale, slightly blurry hands in front of her eyes, grasping and releasing the stale air. With green, glazed over eyes she stared. Slowly, the girl began to shake her head.  
  
"I .. I don't know."  
  
At that moment, the blackness creeped over her hands, a living shadow that slithered along her skin and left nothingness. She screamed, the sound traveling no further than a foot a way into the swallowing darkness. That very obscurity pulled her in despite her vicious struggles, enclosing around her neck, choking ..  
  
Hitomi flung herself up out of bed, the last scream from her nightmare fading to a whimper. Her unkempt hair was damp with sweat as she pushed it out of her gaze. For comfort, her hand instinctively went to her chest for the pendant that once hung there, forgetting that it was a world away. Hitomi sighed.  
  
The dreams are getting worse, she thought. They feel just like that time .. with the doppleganger.  
  
She pulled the sheets around herself, shuddering. Soft white sheets, the color of angel feathers. Hitomi closed her eyes and pictured Van. It had been three years since their adventures together on Gaea, but she always pictured him as he was at that time. He must've grown a little like I did, she thought. More handsome, perhaps? A warmth spread across her cheeks.  
  
The memory of his scent, the smell of fresh fields, filled her nostrils. The pesky phantoms of her memory were always stronger when she concentrated. Despite wishing to see him, her ability only made her heart ache more. And to know that something was amiss simply drew her back to those dire and bittersweet memories.  
  
A silky softness brushed past her colored cheek. Hitomi looked down and saw a bright, almost luminescent feather on her thigh. Gently, she fingered the edge, only to draw her hand back in pain.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
Clutching her hand, she saw a small drop of blood form where the deceptively sharp feather had cut her. Hitomi's eyes glittered in confusion and worry. Her other hand went to her cheek, smearing blood across her fingers from the unnoticeable cut there.  
  
"Van," she murmured, staring once more at the pristine feather that slowly faded from existence.  
  
The gaping royal hall in the palace of Fanelia was half moonlit and half lost in the shadow of night. At the edge of both worlds sat the king of the war-torn country, sweating and bare-chested from his late night sword training. Sitting at the foot of the throne, the royal blade resting at his shoulder, he gazed with hard eyes towards the entrance of the red-carpeted hall. The ancient rug was the only opulence that the hall could afford at the moment, and Van did not hesitate from giving his wealth to the reconstruction efforts. The new palace was not much architecturally different from the rest of the buildings in Fanelia, except bigger to accommodate the soldiers, court, and servants. The luxury of having a home, no matter what shape or size, was all that mattered to him. As well as the safety of his people.  
  
That very obligation was what was keeping him up lately. Fanelia was vulnerable to any attack, be it from mere brigands or great kingdoms. The makeshift alliances that he struggled to secure were often heated. More than not, the young king was left furious with the ambassadors, or even his own politicians. Fanelia simply didn't have the resources to sacrifice for his people's safety. Sure, the mountains that surrounded Fanelia were rich in ores and energists, but the mere thought of trading these resources for safety was counter productive. Guymelefs were in demand after the Great War with the Zaibach Empire, and Van wasn't one to supply the materials for something that would destroy his kingdom once being given.  
  
Van gritted his teeth. He would have to meet more ambassadors the following day. The greedy eyes and dry washing hands that were common to these serpents bothered him. He would not concede. If it was crops or lumber that they wanted, he would grant their wishes .. but if it was energists..  
  
"Van-sama?"  
  
The young king looked towards one of the side doors to find Merle. The cat girl yawned, her pointed teeth glinting in the light.  
  
Merle bounded over to him and plopped down beside him, asking, "What are you doing up this late?"  
  
"I was just thinking, Merle," he answered, closing his eyes as he bobbed the hilt of his blade up and down on his shoulder.  
  
The girl's eyes turned to slivers. She asked in a coy voice tainted in anger, "About Hitomi?"  
  
Van's lips tugged into a minuscule smile that vanished as he said, "I was thinking about politics. These meetings make my stomach turn."  
  
Merle's features softened, her drooping ears a sign of her worry over her lifelong friend. "Van-sama .. what are you going to do?"  
  
Van turned his face from the shadows to look at her. The youth of his countenance aged with the sternness he displayed. His country's losses, these political battles, and even the absence of Hitomi, although he didn't admit it, had hardened him these last few years. Before, he was stubborn and rash, but now those feelings had matured into something more unforgiving, almost callous. The weight of the world had once been on his shoulders, but now, the responsibilities of a king seemed heavier.  
  
"Whatever it takes to keep Fanelia and her people safe."  
  
Merle bit at her lower lip, staring at Van. He has changed so much, she thought. All of this is just too much for him.  
  
She wanted the old Van back, the laughing, caring Van. The Van she had known for most of her life, and the Van that he had become three years ago. Before Hitomi left. Merle's ears drooped even more. Despite her playful hate of Hitomi, she had come to realize that the odd girl from the Mystic Moon was an integral part in Van's happiness. Of course, she knew that Hitomi could come back whenever she wanted. What was keeping them apart, exactly?  
  
"Van-sama?"  
  
The young man was now in the process of putting his bright red tunic over his head. Muffled, he asked, "Yes, Merle?"  
  
"Why .. why aren't you and Hitomi together?"  
  
He pulled the shirt over his head, his thick black hair bouncing back into its original shape. The tight-lipped expression he wore made Merle cringe inwardly.  
  
"Is that all you ever worry about, Merle? Me and Hitomi?"  
  
The rage in his voice was apparent, but he was capable of restraining it with Merle, she noticed. Van rose to his feet and began towards his quarters. The cat girl jumped up, unable to muster the anger behind her worry.  
  
"Van! I was only . you aren't happy without her!"  
  
Van stopped in his tracks, clutching the sheath at his side. Merle took a step forward, her fists balled in front of her chest.  
  
"You .. you aren't the same," she muttered.  
  
The young king lowered his head, and he answered in a low voice, "I am fine without Hitomi. She was the one who taught me that."  
  
He stalked out of the hall, lost into an unlit corridor. 


	2. Generosity and other calculations

II. Generosity and other calculations  
  
The plains of Fanelia: an arid steppe dotted with forests, giving way to some of the greatest snow-capped peaks in all of Gaea. The people who lived there adapted to the land long ago, evolving into a stubborn civilization that braved many tragedies.  
  
It was an untamable land, with an untamable king, Drydan mused.  
  
The merchant prince enjoyed the beautiful view from his newly acquired ship, Aphrodite's Promise. It had taken much time to amass the wealth to buy such a top of the line ship, and Drydan had done so in a painstakingly manner. Three years ago, he had been a small time peddler, living among the common folk in the lands of Asturia. And yet he had gained their respect, something that was priceless to even him, a great merchant's son. Drydan found himself renewed. Perhaps even of worth for the one he loved?  
  
The man scratched at the stubble on his chin, pondering on that thought. It had been a long time since he had seen Millerna, the lone queen of Asturia. Many a time, he saw her carriage passing through the marketplace, her deep violet eyes peering at him. They had been confused in the beginning, but soon filled with silent wonder. It wouldn't be too long before she came his way again, he thought with a grin. Which brought him to why he was here in the first place.  
  
It had been rumors at first, but Drydan came to know that the young king of Fanelia was experiencing financial troubles in rebuilding his country. It would be in his best interest for Drydan to lend a helping hand to the old friend, perhaps even in the matters of the heart.  
  
That poor boy. Hmm, boy? Maybe no longer a boy. He was quick with a sword, but in taming wild doves, he had no clue.  
  
The robed man stood and placed his hands on his hips. It was time for a revolution in Fanelia, and Drydan would be the indirect source of it. A guttural laugh erupted from Drydan. First help an ally of Asturia, and then nestle into the heart of Asturia itself. It was the icing on the cake.  
  
"Oris, take us down to the airship docks."  
  
The rugged, middle-aged helmsman stuttered as he stared down from the windowed deck, "Uh .. sir, there is no room at the docks for the Promise to land."  
  
Drydan furrowed his bushy brows and looked down. Surely enough, several strange-looking airships took up the entire dock. Black as night, save one that was a deep purple color, the ships were cylindrical and stream-lined and were attached to no lodestones, as far as Drydan could see.  
  
"What in Gaea's name .."  
  
"Slavery was commonplace in ancient Egypt, and some slaves were even killed once their masters died so they could serve them in the afterlife .."  
  
Hitomi stared out the window, her hand firmly planted on her cheek in sheer boredom. Around her, her peers scribbled their history notes furiously while she chewed on her pencil eraser. It was a glorious fall day, and leaves were beginning to turn a brilliant orange. The sun streamed through the firey leaves to cast an orange glow on Hitomi's face. She sighed and began to unconsciously draw something on the paper in front of her.  
  
The girl didn't get to sleep due to the nightmare she had, along with the mysterious happenings afterwards. Her body immediately felt tense all over. She hadn't stopped sweating until a few hours before school started. However, it wasn't the dream that had especially bothered her.  
  
In months before, her nightmares were quickly quelled by the comforting feeling she had received from Van. Lately, that comfort seemed to stop coming altogether, along with the other emotions he sent. She had brushed it off, believing that he had simply been too busy to keep track on his companion from afar. But now, Hitomi knew something was wrong.  
  
"Hitomi!"  
  
The pencil lead snapped, and she quickly looked up to see Yukari gazing at her with concern. Slowly, she glanced around to see that everyone was filing out of the door of the classroom. She hadn't even heard the bell.  
  
"Are you all right?" asked Yukari, placing her hand on her forehead to check for a fever. "You've been out of it all day."  
  
Hitomi flashed a smile and stood up, quickly crumpling the paper in front of her.  
  
"Yeah, I just didn't get much sleep last night. I'll be fine, Yukari," she said.  
  
Her close friend tilted her head and softly asked, "Is it about Van?"  
  
Hitomi froze as she was putting her things away into her book bag. Sighing, she admitted, "I don't think he likes me anymore. Maybe he's found someone else. A princess, or something."  
  
Yukari frowned. "That simply can't be, Hitomi. From all the things you told me about him, I .. I think he loves you."  
  
Hitomi managed an embarrassed laugh that quickly faded. Love me? Could Van love me? I know he cares about me .. I care for him too, but why would he suddenly disconnect from me if he does love me?  
  
Seeing the struggle on Hitomi's face, Yukari flashed a spontaneous grin and exclaimed, "Come on, I'll treat you to some soba and garlic, your favorite. Just as long as you don't breathe in my direction."  
  
Laughing, the two girls walked out of the room. Hitomi threw the crumbled piece of paper into the wastebasket as she went. Crinkling, the paper opened slightly to show a roughly drawn black-hued feather.  
  
The shining breastplate and shin-guards were a polished silver, specifically made to fit Van snug. He was a dashing sight, sitting atop the throne of Fanelia .. and also intimidating. This was battle.  
  
Van steepled his hands in front of him and stated in a voice that the whole hall could hear, "No formalities. What do you want?"  
  
Before him, three figures knelt on the plush red carpet. Two were obvious guards, fitted with turbaned helmets and foreign clothing that Van couldn't put a name to. They had worn faces and skin like leather. Between them was a far more attractive figure, a youthful woman with hair as dark as night and skin that contrasted it. A long, black robe draped her shoulders, a welcome covering for the silken loincloth that spilled across her pale legs. The woman raised her head ever so slowly, her bright lavender eyes shocking Van.  
  
"Admirable bluntness, m'lord," the woman purred, her unfamiliar accent thick, "We have come to ask of your future. Where is your queen?"  
  
Van blinked. "I have no wife," he answered.  
  
Mock surprise appeared on the woman's face, and she continued in that slithering voice, "Well, surely a young and handsome man such as yourself has many prospective wives waiting for your hand."  
  
Vexed, Van droned, "Surely you didn't come all of the way from Kishara to ask about my love life, especially with one of your convoys."  
  
"Your majesty, you know as well as I that Gaea is unstable. I would not risk a long journey without the proper protection," spoke the woman, drawing a long, lacquered nail across her violet lips. "What I came here for is to propose a marriage with my daughter, heir to Kishara. Unless you already have someone in mind?"  
  
This Kisharyn had a slick tone that Van didn't like. She was probing him to something he could not foresee. It was time to shut the doors.  
  
"I don't care much for arranged marriages. I appreciate the offer and apologize for your fruitless trip," he uttered, bowing his head slightly.  
  
The woman's mouth twitched into a small smile as she said, "This offer includes many other royalties, of course. A wedding of our two nations would assure the protection of your people. Much like your own, my country is rebuilding itself from the subjugation of Zaibach. Our alliance-"  
  
"Our alliance is easily accomplished with a simple treaty, my lady. I am trustworthy with or without the exchange of vows. Please leave me now and return tomorrow if this suits you."  
  
With that, Van rose and walked out of the great hall, leaving the still kneeling woman and her companions in the company of his guards. Slowly, she rose, brushing off the dust that had collected on her robe. She sneered at the filthiness, but that was quickly replaced with a sly smile.  
  
That whelp will bring her to me. Of this I am sure. 


	3. III Moth to a Flame

(Finally, an update. Between Japanese quizzes and hallmates running headfirst into walls, I've been pretty distracted lately. Unfortunately, this is a slow chapter. I don't think I can draw this story out enough. -_- Luckily, I know most of the plot so all that is needed is to get it down on paper. Enjoy!  
  
P.S. fixed the transition problem [hopefully] .. apparently the times new roman line thingy doesn't convert. Asterisks aren't aesthetically pleasing to me .. but here goes. ^_^)  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
III. Moth to a Flame  
  
Hitomi slowly crept through the doorway of her dark house, closing the door behind her without a sound. It was way past her curfew, which was ridiculous to her anyways, being eighteen and all. She slipped her shoes off and lightly dropped her book bag on the floor. Softly, she padded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, its sterile light blinding her eyes. She reached in for the bottle of orange juice, screwed off the cap, and took a big swig.  
  
"Your name is Hitomi."  
  
Hitomi nearly choked, her eyes burning from the caustic juice in her windpipe. She spun around towards the kitchen table and saw the dark outline of a woman. The woman's arm slowly rose to the wall near the table and flicked the light switch. It took a moment for Hitomi's eyes to adjust to the brightness, her arm covering her eyes. She peeked over her elbow, expecting to find her mother waiting to scold her. But instead, it was her grandmother.  
  
"Grandma!"  
  
The feeble woman had a senescent beauty about her, with few wrinkles and thin streaks of silver in her braided hair. She had the same deep green eyes as Hitomi, yet they were softer, wiser. Her skinny arms opened as Hitomi rushed up to hug her.  
  
In a warm voice, she uttered into Hitomi's hair, "I thought you would never get home, girl."  
  
Hitomi blushed and plopped down beside her at the table, muttering, "If I would have known that you were visiting I would have hurried home right after school. Yukari and I-"  
  
The old woman laughed and waved a hand at Hitomi, "It's all right, Hitomi. I'll tell your mother that you came home a few hours earlier. I didn't know I was coming either."  
  
Hitomi looked perplexed. She asked, "What do you mean, grandma?"  
  
The woman across from her folded her hands in her lap and looked at Hitomi, her face losing the friendliness it once had.  
  
"I've come to talk to you about Gaea."  
  
Hitomi sat very still. Her hand wished to race up to her chest to grasp at the phantom pendant, but she simply stared ahead at her grandmother. Somehow she knew, deep down, that she had been expecting this for a couple weeks.  
  
"No matter what happens, Hitomi, no matter what sort of premonitions you have .. you must not go back to Gaea. There is a great danger lurking there that will surely .." the woman paused, frowning before continuing, "You simply mustn't."  
  
Hitomi's opened her mouth, her lips working silently in surprise. Her grandmother leaned forward and grabbed her hands with a ferocity that shocked Hitomi.  
  
"Hitomi, don't! Please tell me right now that you won't return," she said, her eyes glistening with moisture.  
  
The girl shuddered quietly and lowered her head. What was happening in Gaea? And more importantly, what was happening to Van?  
  
Softly, she said, "I don't know if I can make that promise, grandma. If Van needs me, I must go back."  
  
Her grandmother's hands slowly slipped off of her own and she rose to her feet, looking down at Hitomi with tears in her eyes.  
  
"I was afraid that you would say that, Hitomi. Come see me to the door, will you?"  
  
In a daze, Hitomi stood and followed the little woman to the door. On the porch they stood, her grandmother shedding tears with a small smile that quivered on her face. She placed her bony hands on Hitomi's shoulders, gazing at her face as if to memorize it, before pulling her into a hug with a strength that was beyond her appearance.  
  
"Grandma," Hitomi whispered, burying her face into her sweet-smelling hair.  
  
"Remember .. your name is Hitomi. Don't ever forget that," her grandmother mumbled before letting her go.  
  
Hitomi watched at the old woman walked down the steps to her bicycle near the lattice-arched gate. She mounted and rode off into the night, her worn face still wet with tears.  
  
The girl placed her back against the doorjamb and slid down into an awkward seat. Later, she realized she hadn't even asked was what to come in the near future, and yet she accepted it fully.  
  
****************************  
  
The foreign guards surrounding the strange vessels regarded Drydan with a stiff silence. And still, Drydan flashed his best merchant's smile, promising a good deal no matter what the circumstances.  
  
"Fine ships you have here. But just how do they work without levistones?"  
  
The guards glanced between each other from behind cowled faces, then back to the conniving prince. In a single breath that shook both of their veils, they stated in synchronicity, "Kisharyn business is none of yours. Carry on."  
  
Drydan muttered something inaudible. First, he wasn't allowed into the Fanelian palace despite his close relationship with the king, or what he had imagined was close. Apparently the king was too busy with foreign visitors to deal with the "common folk." He never remembered Van Fanel being this haughty. And now, he was spurned for being the simple, pleasant merchant that he was.  
  
Drydan flicked his tinted spectacles over his eyes and sighed, saying, "Very well. I apologize for disturbing you."  
  
He turned and walked back up the wooden ramps that led into the city, his earth-toned robe trailing after him. In passing, a beautiful dark-haired woman passed by him, her violet eyes lined in kohl. Following her were two guards who were identical to the ones he had spoken to, save their slightly more muscled stature. Drydan walked on, watching her from the corner of his eye. He had never seen her before, but he was positive from her regal air that she was the leader of this fleet.  
  
Kishara, huh? If he remembered correctly, that desert area west of Zaibach had been under their control for at least fifty years. They had enslaved the people of that area and took advantage of the natural oil of the land, a must for the movement of guymelefs. Now, however, they had taken over the oil industry in their nation as well as Zaibach's, as according to the treaty among the nations that had battled against them. Over the past few years, they had grown to a wealthy country that could apparently afford the best of technological advancements, as well as adopting some of Emperor Dornkirk's secrets that the liberated slaves had brought home.  
  
Drydan stewed over this information in a nearby tavern, clutching a steamy concoction under his nose that fogged up his dark glasses. He didn't particularly like the stuffiness of the Kisharyn, and he pictured them as a people that were way over their head in terms of political and economic advancement. Or perhaps it was just that they didn't want to share their secrets with the rest of the world? Oppression could do horrible things to people. He just hoped that they didn't turn into another Zaibach.  
  
An incessant tapping broke his thoughts from the window beside his table. Looking to the side, he saw a cattish face smooshed on the window, a little clawed fingertip the cause of the annoyance.  
  
Drydan jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Merle! Stay there!"  
  
The cat girl stuck her tongue out on him and bounded down the busy street, leaving a smudge on the window where her face had once been. Drydan muttered a curse and ran out the door after her, the keeper of the establishment yelling after him.  
  
"Damn sneak! I need her to get me into the palace," he huffed, dodging street shoppers and carts full of produce.  
  
He chased after the flash of tan and pink that was sometimes accompanied by a taunting face in his direction. Before he knew it, they were dashing across the less crowded plaza that heralded the palace entrance. The swift cat girl hopped across the sandstone-bricked court, leaving Drydan stumbling just behind her. Fumbling over his own feet, he reached out to grab the striped tail waving in front of him .. but it quickly vanished from his line of sight when Merle leapt onto one of the two guymelefs guarding the palace gates. The face-plant he was recovering from had covered his face in tan dust, leaving him coughing and gawking up at the girl who leisurely cleaned her paws above.  
  
"Merle, damn you! You have to get me into the palace," he spouted, rubbing the dust from his face.  
  
The girl lifted one of her rear feet and scratched at an itch behind one of her catty ears. "Oh, get a life. Van-sama doesn't need a two-bit merchant like you bothering him!"  
  
Drydan steamed with fury, a few curly strands of his hair awry from the jaunt. He wouldn't mind selling that girl to the highest bidder. Balling his fists, he boasted, "Your king needs all the help he can get, and I am the man to do it."  
  
Merle's ears twitched, then drooped. She said something indistinguishable to the melef pilot who promptly opened the unembellished iron gates. It seemed that the Fanelian king's woes had drifted to one of his dearest friends. A sly smile hinted on his lips. His fortune was looking up.  
  
* * *  
  
Passing through the halls of the palace, Drydan observed that the practically unfurnished citadel had seen better days. At least Van is a just ruler how wouldn't squander his fortune on trivialities that would put his country into debt, he thought. Drydan had experienced that sort of wastefulness with his own father. Worse yet, he had spent most of his wealth not on exotic goods or metals, but on women. Drydan cringed inwardly. That man had no tact.  
  
The merchant followed the pink-haired girl through sunlit gardens and dark corridors, eventually coming to an intricately carved double doorway. Drydan noticed the small winged figures that traipsed across the wood, elaborately detailed to the last down feather. At the center was Van's mother, a woman with solemn beauty that he had seen years ago in the Forbidden Lands. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.  
  
Merle quietly opened one of the doors an inch, out spilling arguing voices into the otherwise silent hallway. "But your majesty! A binding alliance with the Kisharyn would ensure our safety and wealth-"  
  
"Better yet, our empire would be spread out across the continent. Such an increase in land would give us the upper hand in wartime!"  
  
Closing the door, Merle said, "They are still bickering. You'll have to wait to see him."  
  
Drydan laid his hand on the door, stopping Merle. He stared blankly, paying close attention to what they were saying on the other side.  
  
Van's familiar voice exploded out of the room, "I will not marry into a country I hardly know anything about! An alliance with Fanelia is the last thing they want, and I know it. I just don't trust the woman, this .. this Vivion."  
  
Intense pain shot up Drydan's left leg, causing him to bellow at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he saw the cat girl flexing her clawed fingers at him, her eyes hard and mischievous. Before he could run from the surely disturbing scene, the wide doors swung open, nearly causing him to fall into the room they had barricaded.  
  
Firey brown eyes regarded them both, much to Drydan's surprise. He had seen this cantankerous expression before on the young king, but what made it much more intimidating to Drydan was that the youth now looked him straight in the eye rather than a foot below him. Van had grown in more ways than one, for the presence of a well-toned strength emanated from beneath the etched silver armor he wore. Even on his chin was the hint of rough stubble.  
  
"Van-sama! Drydan was listening in on you," Merle exclaimed, her cheeks coloring as she continued to explain, "But it is my fault that he got into the castle. I'm sorry, Van-sama."  
  
The king glanced at Merle silently, then back to Drydan, his arms folding over his burnished chest. "And for what reason do I give thanks for this unexpected visit, Drydan?"  
  
Drydan put his hands behind his head and laughed, not letting the cut from Van's sharp voice affect him. "Well, I just happened to know that you needed my expertise in your .. what do you call it .. economic position. Apparently you need my help in other places too," he said, pushing his tinted glasses up his nose in the process.  
  
A scornful expression crossed Van's face. Three politicians with resentful eyes came to stand in the doorway behind Van, gazing at Drydan with as much annoyance as their king.  
  
"The vagabond king has wandered this way, it seems. Perhaps we should ask his advice in this matter," mentioned the hawk-nosed Pelian, his palms rubbing together as if the act was a prayer to the gods for riches and fortune.  
  
Van closed his mahogany eyes, stating, "Very well, Drydan. I am not one to cast my friends out onto the streets without a good reason. But make sure you keep your nose in Fanelian business and nothing else."  
  
Drydan managed a light-hearted grin. He would be a tough egg to crack, that one. But the excitement of such a difficulty was just as enticing as the morals he had assigned to this task. Morals? The only moral here was the remembrance of loving companionship, for both him and Van.  
  
Drydan sighed as he followed them into the room, leaving the steaming Merle behind. Sometimes, being a romantic was such a nuisance 


End file.
